


A Touch of Chicanery

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Turtlecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6676330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.<br/>Word Count: 1,912 One shot, 2k3<br/>Rated: R, TCest<br/>Pairing: Mike/Don<br/>Summary: Michelangelo plots out a way to get Donatello alone so he can tell him of his feelings.</p>
<p>~~Written for the Donatello and Michelangelo Pairing Fanbook: Experimental Affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Chicanery

            Michelangelo stood with his back against the railing which surrounded the second floor of their new lair, his eyes on Donatello.  His brother was working on his computer in the corner he’d set up as his office, completely oblivious to anything going on around him.

            Don’s concentration was admirable and one of the reasons the genius could focus on a delicate task even with a battle raging all around him.  It was Don’s determination that had turned the abandoned New York Reservoir pump station into a home in record time, despite numerous hardships.

            Mike regretted the amount of complaining he’d done about the power going out, the entertainment system not working properly, or the things he’d lost when Karai destroyed their last home.  Through all of that he hadn’t lifted a finger while Don was feverishly laboring to make the entire family both comfortable and safe.

            When Don had gotten sick with what they’d all thought was a bad cold, Mike had felt almost inconvenienced.  Of course he worried about Don, but a head cold was nothing to get excited over.

            Then Donatello, his gentle, smart brother had mutated into a mindless beast because of a gash he’d received from something infected by Bishop’s outbreak mutagen.  The thought that they might lose Donny forever was almost too much for Mikey to bear.

            Throughout the entire ordeal of trying to find a cure for him, Mike had worked hard to maintain a positive attitude.  He was sure that Don could sense it and that it helped the genius to hang onto some part of himself.

            Along with Leatherhead and their Father, the turtle brothers had risked everything to find Bishop and demand a cure.  It came as no surprise to the group of mutants when Bishop had bartered with them, nor was it a surprise that Leo agreed to the terms, no matter the danger.  Mike would have gone by himself into the heart of the Foot fortress if he’d had to, but he knew that wouldn’t be necessary.

            It was around then that Michelangelo finally acknowledged to himself how he felt about Donatello.  There was so much more to his emotions than brotherly affection or devotion to one’s family.  Mike loved Donny in an all-encompassing way.  He wanted to be with Don, to share everything with him.  Mike wanted a physical relationship with Donatello and he wanted love.

            Don had gotten his cure, thanks primarily to his own research and Leatherhead’s intellect.  Though it had been Raphael who had helped Don into the helicopter when they made their escape from Bishop’s facility, it had been Mike with whom Don had chosen to share a seat.

            During the ride back to the lair, Donatello had clung to his younger brother.  In turn, Michelangelo had responded to Don’s shivering by wrapping his arms around the genius and holding him tightly.

            When they arrived home, Don had asked Mike to stay in his room with him, to watch over him.  Don hadn’t had to say that he was afraid he might revert back to his monstrous form and Mike didn’t bring it up.  Mike had simply made himself comfortable on one side of Don’s bed.  He’d shared that bed for a week before Don’s nightmares had subsided.

            A couple of months had passed and Don was himself again, doing what he always did; sleeping very little, not eating right, and working too hard.

            Mike had tried a few times to broach the subject of his feelings, but Don’s mind was always drifting off to one of his projects.  There was no way that Mike was ever going to reach his goal while Don was in the lair surrounded by his work.

            Giving up was not an option and certainly wasn’t Mike’s way.  Since he couldn’t turn Don’s attention from his projects, Mike would lure him with one of them.

            Strolling up behind his brother, Mike leaned over Don’s shoulder to look at his computer screen and asked, “What’cha working on?”

            Don gave a startled jump and then glowered at his younger brother.  “Must you sneak up on me?”

            Mike shrugged.  “Nope.  I didn’t this time either.  Not my fault you’ve got your ninja senses turned to the ‘off’ position.”

            “I’m busy Mikey,” Don said in what he probably hoped would be a dismissive tone.

            “Aren’t you always?” Mike responded airily.  “I’m tired of being cooped up in the lair.  Drop whatever you’re doing and let’s take the sub for a test run.  You haven’t taken it out in the river since you rebuilt it.”

            “I don’t have the time right now,” Don said absently, his eyes already back on the computer screen.

            “Fine,” Mikey said with a pouty huff.  “I’ll take it out by myself.  Don’t blame me if I strip the gears or crash the nose into some sunken ship, or if it sinks because you couldn’t be bothered to check your own work.”

            He took a step back and Don spun around in his chair.  “Don’t you dare!”

            “Bye.  See you later.  Bon voyage,” Mikey called out to him as he started walking towards the stairs.

            “Michelangelo!” Don shouted, bounding out of his seat and chasing after his younger brother.

            Don caught up to him as Mikey reached the entrance to the sub’s new base.  Grinning at his brother, Mikey opened the door and stepped onto the catwalk that led to the Shell Sub.

            “Glad to see you decided to go with me after all,” Mike told him.

            After attempting to intimidate Mike with an icy glare, Don finally sighed and said, “You win.  We’ll go out for a little while but not far, I really have too much to do.”

            “Woohoo!” Mikey cheered, racing towards the sub’s door.  “I’m driving!”

            “Why do I get the feeling that’s a bad idea?” Don asked of no one in particular as he followed his brother into the sub.

            Other than a few upgrades, the sub looked almost exactly like the one that Karai’s goons had destroyed.  The interior was a little more spacious and after the brothers were strapped into their seats, Mike discovered that it handled better too.

            Don pressed the button that lifted the sub into a flood tube and then after sealing it behind them, manipulated the controls that would open a door into the river.  Water rushed into the tube and as soon as the sub became buoyant, Mike set the sub into motion.

            Cruising along near the bottom of the river, Mike made sure to maintain a nice, even ride for his brother.  He was happy not to see any strange things happening underwater; no out of place vehicles, no other submarines, no activity other than fish swimming around.  Mike wanted Don to be as relaxed as possible.

            Keeping a furtive eye on the genius, Mike drifted along until he saw the tension ease out of Don’s shoulders.  Finding a nice flat spot on the river bottom, Mike maneuvered the sub over it and then set the craft down.

            “Is something wrong?” Don immediately asked, searching the display readouts.

            “Darn, I guess we’re out of gas,” Mike answered in mock seriousness.

            Frowning, Don turned to him and said, “This doesn’t run on gas, Mikey.”

            Unbuckling his seat belt, Mike got up and told him, “I meant us.  I need breakfast and so do you.”

            He ignored Don’s spluttering as he went around behind the seats and pulled out the basket he’d hidden inside the sub’s toolbox.  There was enough space on the floor for the blanket Mike had brought along and he spread it out before sitting down on it.

            By that time Don was standing in front of him, hands on his hips as he gaped at his brother.  With every sign of nonchalance, Mike proceeded to remove items from the basket, spreading out a small feast before finally looking up to meet Don’s eyes.

            “I made your favorite,” Mike said, gazing at Don reverently.  “I tried to give you breakfast when you . . . you changed, but you were more interested in eating me.”

            Don’s hands slowly lowered, the angry look on his face melting.  He sank down on the blanket, glancing at the food before turning his attention to Mike again.

            “I’m so sorry,” Don murmured, as though it was too painful to speak aloud.  “I can’t even remember anything that happened after I mutated.”

            “And that means none of it was your fault,” Mike responded in a firm voice.  “You have to stop acting like it was, or that you could have prevented it in the first place, ‘cause you didn’t know what that gash would do to you.  No one could have expected that.  Stop working yourself into the ground trying to make up for it.”

            “Is that what I’ve been doing?” Don asked, studying Mike as though seeing him for the first time.

            “Yep,” Mike answered.  “I know you.  You think working double time will make us see that you’re worth all the effort we put into getting you cured.  We don’t need you to do that, you’re our brother and we’d do anything for you.  I’d do anything for you, Donny.  I love you.”

            Mike hadn’t actually meant to blurt it out quite so bluntly, but there it was now, right out in the open.  It was pretty clear from the way he’d said those words that he didn’t mean just as a brother.

            They stared at each other for a moment before Mike boldly leaned forward.  To his delight, Don simultaneously bent towards him as well, both moving until their lips met in a kiss.

            It was more than tentative when after a moment the pressure increased until their mouths opened and their tongues began to explore.  The feeling excited Mike, sending shivers down his spine that were so intense he began to churr.  At the first sound of his enthusiasm, Don moaned before responding with churring of his own.

            The crunch of squashed toast reminded the pair that there was an array of food lined up in front of them and they separated, though they didn’t move far from each other.

            It was Donatello who spoke first, his voice barely above a whisper.  “Wow, did I . . . did I just kiss my brother?”

            Mike grinned, happier than he’d been in months.  “Yeah you did, and you liked it too.”

            Don returned the smile and asked, “Presumptuous much?”

            “Ha!  You were moaning and I heard you churr,” Mike teased seductively.

            A faint flush painted Don’s neck and cheeks, one that was more than a little alluring to the younger turtle.

            “Maybe we could do that again as a follow-up?” Don asked hesitantly.

            “You mean like, double-check the experiment?” Mike countered, eyes twinkling.

            “Something like that,” Don agreed, his color rising.  “Maybe more.”

            Mike felt his heart leap in his chest and he reached down to sweep the food to the side so he could scoot closer to Don.  “I got no problem with building an appetite with you, if that’s what you had in mind.”

            “I’ll follow whatever plan you come up with Mikey,” Don said, pressing against his brother.  “Your ideas have been spot on all morning.”

            “Cool,” Mikey said, wrapping his arms around Don’s shoulders.  “I can’t wait to show you how many of those ideas I’ve been having.”

            The shell sub didn’t move from that spot for the remainder of the day.


End file.
